


Stolen Possessions

by sweeterthanstrawberries



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Imagine, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Sirius Black imagine, Sirius Black x you, Sirius x reader - Freeform, Sirius x you, Sirius/reader - Freeform, Sirius/you - Freeform, sirius black/reader - Freeform, sirius black/you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthanstrawberries/pseuds/sweeterthanstrawberries
Summary: Things of yours keep disappearing, and you find out why.
Relationships: Sirius Black x Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 116





	Stolen Possessions

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! i wrote this with a hufflepuff reader in mind, but i never specified, so any house can work. i also created a best friend character Tammy, but you can replace her name with one of your friends if you would like <3

“Have you guys seen my potions book? I can’t find it in my bag,” you say, shuffling through your satchel, hoping you had just mistaken the missing volume for another book.  
Your friends all shake their heads, throwing you apologetic expressions.

“Maybe you left it in Professor Slughorn’s room,” Tammy suggests.

You whisper a distracted and defeated, “Maybe,” still fumbling around in your beat up pack. “I’ll go check.”

Standing up from your place at the table, you briskly walk to the dungeons. Today in potions had been a bit chaotic as you were reassigned seats to make a batch of Skele-gro. You had never met your partner, but he was no stranger to your ears. Sirius Black has always been loud and obnoxious, making you groan when you received the news that these new seats were permanent.

When you ask the professor if he has seen your book around, he is sorry to say that he hasn’t, but he offers to lend you an extra copy until yours turns up. Gratefully, you accept and leave the dungeons, hardly feeling any better.

***

You always wear too many layers. Upon entering Hogsmeade, you peel away the largest of the three sweaters you had piled on before departing from the castle. You figure that you can always take layers off, but you can’t add them once you are away from your closet.

“I’m going to buy some sweets,” Tammy titters, skipping away to Honeydukes.

“I’ll be right here,” you call out to her, looking around for a bench to wait on.

Settling down, you pull out your doodling notebook and distract yourself until Tammy returns with snacks. Your disregarded sweater sits tossed over the back of the bench beside you.

A bright giggle prompts you to stow your notebook away in your robes and scoot over to make room for your rather flighty friend. You reach for your sweater to place it over your lap but find it missing.

“Tammy, did you move my sweater?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level, but a slight sense of panic raises the tone.

“No, I didn’t,” she replies, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Huh, I swear it was right there a minute ago,” you state, pointing to the place the knitted clothing sat.

“Maybe you shouldn’t wear so many layers,” Tammy jives with moke-severity. “That way you wouldn’t lose them.”

Shaking your head, mumbling agreements, you take a licorice wand in hand and munch at it, the missing sweater still on your mind.

***

“This class will be the death of me,” you mutter to yourself, resting your chin in your palm. Transfiguration with the Gryffindors was just as, if not more, tedious than Potions with them. They are proud people by nature, so someone performing difficult spells easily is surely announced to the whole class.

Quietly watching the other students turn teacups into furniture, you sit back on your floral porcelain armchair. Professor McGonagall catches your eye, offering you a hidden smile before rushing over to another student whose teacup started spouting hot chamomile tea as it clinked down the isle of desks.

When the clock shows that the class period has ended, you return to your desk and pack up your things. Haphazardly, you shove books and bottles of ink into your bag. Glancing around, you search for your favorite white feathered quill. Letting out a huff of frustration, you sag your shoulders and scour the room for your writing utensil, walking out after giving up.

“Tammy, something else has gone missing, and I swear I’m not going crazy,” you announce to your friend over the dinner table. “This is the third thing to just suddenly disappear.”

“Someone could be messing with you,” she says, shrugging her shoulders in a rather apathetic way.

“Who?” you question rhetorically.

Who would want to steal _your_ stuff? And _why_?

***

Pulling your hair out of your necklace again, you sigh, reaching behind you to unclasp the silver from your neck. It is no surprise that the metal chain catches more hair as you tug it away from you, ripping a number of strands out of your head. You tuck the jewelry in your robe pocket and turn back to studying.

You reach to dip your quill in the black ink at the top corner of the library desk. Reading over your previous sentence, you hear the chink of the bottle tipping and feel the sticky liquid splashing over your hand. The ink starts to ooze on the wood, into your sleeve, all over your parchment.

Loud groans and frustrated complaints escape your lips as you stand up, shucking off your ink-stricken robes, leaving to fetch some towels and help.

When you return, ready to clean up the mess, you find the table spotless and your robes gone.

***

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and your possessions keep getting stolen. A book will go missing. Your scarf will disappear. Still not any closer to knowing who the culprit is, you keep living life, hoping that whoever it is will eventually stop. You are not a confrontational person, so it seems easier to just let it go.

“What’s missing today?” Tammy asks curiously.

“My notebook,” you say dismally. You were okay with a textbook or a meaningless quill disappearing, but your notebook is personal. You have things written in there that are meant only for your eyes.

Tammy can see your melancholy demeanor, so she suggests, “Y/N, I think you should do something about this. It’s gone on long enough. You are starting to run out of things they can steal.”

You nod somberly, agreeing to make an effort to put an end to the frequent thievery. Conjuring a plan over lunch, you set out to hopefully convince whoever it is to leave your stuff alone.

***

You meticulously write a simple letter, explaining to the swindler the reasons they should stop stealing your things. You place it in a book on the desk in your corner of the library and leave it there, begging to be stolen.

Your plan is set in motion by you walking away to give the culprit time to take the book. Hiding behind a nearby shelf, you watch the crime scene intently. What you see makes you gasp softly, as it appears that nothing is lifting your book off the desk before it disappears completely.

Carefully creeping back to the table, you look around for the thief but find no one except a group of first year Ravenclaws a few shelves over. A sigh escapes you, and you sit down, nervous and hopeful that whoever it is will find your note.

***

Sirius walks back to the common room, your book in one hand and the invisibility cloak in the other. He rifles through Simple Potions and finds a piece of folded paper in the book, obviously left there by you. Pulling out the note, he begins to read.

‘ _To My Personal Voleur,_  
_I hope that you find this note because I have a few things I would like to ask. Are you in need of clothing and schoolbooks? Because if you are, I would be happy to make a donation of money if that would stop you from stealing. Are you just trying to get on my nerves? Because it isn’t really working. However, I am starting to run out of things that you can steal and have had to turn to my friends for basic necessities such as quills and scarves. I would ask that you please stop stealing my stuff. If you need it more than I do, please keep it, but I have little left for you to take._  
_Thank you for hearing me out,_  
_Y/N_ ’

Sirius reads the note over again, studying each sentence. Guilt starts to creep into his consciousness. He knew that you were kind, but he didn’t anticipate your blind care for the person who has been antagonizing you for months.

He stole your book in potions unintentionally at first. He had grabbed it, thinking it was his, not remembering that his own had already been packed away.

He thought that it would be a good laugh if he stole a few things here and there, but soon, Sirius realized that he was doing it to get your attention. You are sweet and caring and a brilliant witch. He assumed that you would figure it out and approach him about it, but you haven’t. You seem rather unbothered by his pranking.

Apparently, you have reasoned that whoever the thief is needs your possessions more than you do. This reminds Sirius yet again why he likes you so much.

***

Over lunch the next day, owls swoop low over the tables, dropping letters and packages for the students. You rarely get mail, so you are surprised to find a letter addressed to you in your mashed potatoes.

The parchment is folded and sealed, and you tug it open quickly. You feel Tammy’s eyes on your face as you read the scrawled note.

‘ _Y/N,_  
_I would like to first apologize for my actions. It started out unintentional, but stealing from you became a bit of a habit. I have all your things, and I would like to return them. Meet me in the courtyard after dinner tonight._  
_Your Personal Voleur_ ’

Your jaw goes slack at the words. Shoving the note under Tammy’s nose, you watch her read the letter and have the same reaction.

“Who do you think it is?” you ask keenly.

“I don’t know. Are you going to go?” she questions, handing the letter back to you. Reading over the note once again, you slowly nod your head.

“I think I will,” you say quietly, hesitantly.

***

You can hardly get much dinner down, nerves eating away at you. Wanting to bravely face whoever has been teasing you for months seems like a hard task when the minutes to the meeting tick down. Tammy offers encouragement before you make your way to the courtyard, determined to try to appear cool and casual.

When you get there, only one person stands by a pillar. They are obviously male with their back to you. Upon hearing your footsteps, they turn around with an overflowing box in their hands.

Your eyes meet those of Sirius Black. You should have known.

After stopping your approach, he cautiously takes slow steps to you and holds out the box for you to take. You can see your robes, multiple books, and the tip of a white feathered quill protruding from over the edge.

“Here, uh, here are your things,” he says lowly, eyebrows scrunched in what seems like embarrassment.

You take the box from him, not breaking eye contact.

“Why?” you whisper.

He rubs the back of his neck, offering you a tight, half smile.

“I guess it was kind of a joke. I thought you would catch me a lot sooner, but,” he trails off as if trying to find what to say.

You are a little embarrassed by his words, almost offended that he seems to be calling you dim.

“Oh,” you say lamely.

“No, I don’t think your dumb,” he rushes out. “I just didn’t expect you to be so passive.”

He really isn’t helping his case.

“I was hoping that you would stop if I ignored it,” you huff defensively.

Sirius gets this apologetic look on his face that makes yours soften slightly.

“I wanted to get your attention,” he declares in a breath, taking another step towards you. “I accidentally took your book in potions that day, and I kept meaning to give it back. But I thought I could get you to notice me if I didn’t.”

“Sirius,” you sigh and laugh a little. “You could’ve just talked to me.”

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Sirius mumbles, “I know. I’m an idiot.”

“Maybe a bit of one,” you tease gently.

He looks up at you, a smile growing on his face.

“Yeah,” he nods, eyes cast to the ground, causing his hair to fall in his face.

“Do you want to come with me to put my possessions back where they belong?” you ask, hope lacing your tone.

He looks up, grins, and replies, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Follow me,” you chirp, turning in the direction of your common room, restored possessions in hand, with Sirius hot on your heels.


End file.
